


Wake Me

by Underwater_Alien



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:14:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19083886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Underwater_Alien/pseuds/Underwater_Alien
Summary: Max’s life is falling apart. And it is only partially his fault. College has forced him to live far away from everyone he loves, he hasn’t slept properly in months, and worst of all, it’s nearly Christmas. Maybe if life was a little kinder he could be spending it with his boyfriend.





	1. Twenty One

Max turned twenty-one the day it all started, and he never let himself forget it. His world was going up in smoke, and what was he doing? Drinking. Getting lost. Letting everything slide over him until he couldn’t breathe.

 

Two missed calls. Three. Four. One voicemail, then another, and he ignored them all. Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, Max knew he was doing it all wrong; But that was the funny thing about growing older. Everything was guesswork, even the things that should have come easy, and by some cruel twist of the universe, Max always seemed to guess the wrong things. Here he was, twenty-one and still fucking everything up. And the worst part about it was that he didn’t care.

 

Colors danced back and forth across floor and skin and clothes, in time with the pulsing music that was drowning out Max’s thoughts. Did he know this song? Did he know where he was? His mind was all but blank as he joined the throng, his body operating on alcohol-fueled autopilot, feeling nothing and everything all at once. He barely registered deciding to leave his phone on the counter at the bar, positive that he wouldn’t miss its constant ringing. He left it there as it continued to buzz, the screen lighting up with each new notification.

 

Two more missed calls. Two more angry voicemails.

 

And Max was gone.

 

~~

 

YESTERDAY

  
  


“How much sleep did you get last night?” Neil’s voice was tinny and muffled through the laptop speakers, but Max was used to that by now. He heard him loud and clear. 

 

“Guess.”

 

Neil laughed and buried his face in the sleeve of his sweater. “Four hours.”

 

“Close. Three.” Max spoke over his shoulder, his arms laden with clothes as he bumbled about putting them away, the kind of talk as casual and effortless as if the two of them lived together. This is the way they would talk if Neil was here, he thought; Neil would lay on the bed, his head on his arms, watching while Max wandered about the room busying himself with everything he possibly could. It was an annoying habit, but Max’s mind only seemed to calm when it was working on two things at once, whether that was a side effect of his medication or college stress he wasn’t sure.

 

“That’s not good, Max.”

 

“I know. But it’s always worth it to talk to you.”

 

“That’s cute,” Neil said, sitting up and readjusting his camera, “but I don’t want to be the reason you’re sleep deprived. Get some rest tonight, okay?” 

 

Something tasted bitter about the way he said that, Max thought, furrowing his brows. He wasn’t one to make assumptions, but this felt like a goodbye. Max knew goodbyes well enough. He didn’t need another.

 

“Okay.” His reply was simple, but filled with so much worry that he was afraid it was visible on his face. Neil pretended not to see it, leaning closer to his screen while Max pulled away.

 

“It’s almost eleven,” Neil said, changing the subject. Something out of view lit up his face with a purplish glow. Max hummed in agreement. “Where you are, at least. We should both go to bed.”

 

“Please don’t,” Max said suddenly. He surprised even himself with the desperation in his voice, but there was no taking it back now. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed in front of the open computer, his pose a clear attempt at comfort, though everything else about him conveyed unease. “I... need your help with a paper I’m working on.”

 

“That’s a lie,” Neil said simply. It was true, of course, but Max wasn’t about to admit that. “I know you, Max. Nice try, but just go to bed, all right? Promise me. Promise you’ll get some sleep tonight.”

 

Max was biting back tears. Hot, angry tears. He liked to think he wasn’t an overly emotional person, but in that moment there was just so much more he wanted to say.  _ I wish you could sleep next to me. _ He tasted blood. _ I wish I wasn’t such an insufferable boyfriend.  _ His vision was going cloudy.  _ I wish I could hold you and say everything will be okay. _

 

“Hey,” Neil said. “Promise?” He repeated. Max couldn’t speak, settling for a shaky nod instead. Neil seemed satisfied, and he reached forward to turn off the camera, muttering a soft “Good night” before Max’s screen went black. It was over, and all was silent once again. But it was going to be a long night, and Max wasn’t tired in the least. 

  
  


In the morning, snow was falling in gentle drifts outside Max’s bedroom window. If things were different, he knew, he wouldn’t have to be watching it all alone. He would be huddled beneath a blanket, beside his still-sleeping boyfriend, relishing the still quiet of the morning. He would ruffle Neil’s caramel-colored hair and plant a soft kiss on his forehead before slipping away. But instead he brushed his teeth in the dark, and dressed for the day without anyone to comment on his unbrushed hair or the undone button on his shirt. He shuffled around, fumbled for the light switch, and looked back at no one as he locked the front door. If things were different, he wouldn’t be walking by himself down the frozen-over sidewalks, and if life were kinder he would have Neil’s warm hand to hold, Neil’s sweatshirt pulled over his head to block the wind, Neil’s lighthearted stories to keep him laughing as they went. He wouldn’t have to be so utterly alone as he pushed open the coffee shop door and set about the daily task of trying to forget.

 

But things were not different. Perhaps he imagined the warmth in the way the barista spoke, and the blush that colored her cheeks as she handed him his drink, but he certainly wasn’t dreaming up the blank page staring back at him from his open laptop, or the couples sitting impossibly close to one another in every corner booth in the room. No matter how hard Max squinted, words stubbornly refused to appear on his page, and the feeling of being smothered by the very air around him only worsened. There was only one week left of the semester. He  _ had _ to write this paper. But if Max had ever had any inspiration, it was long since dead and buried.

 

If Neil were here he would probably laugh, then proceed to make suggestions that Max would secretly think were brilliant but wouldn’t write down out of indignation. But he didn’t want to think about that right now.

 

Through the hole he drew with his finger in the frost-covered window, Max could see the main street of his little town start to come to life. The day had begun without him. Had he really been sitting here that long? A man in an overcoat carried his wife’s shopping bags while she hailed a cab, their children excitedly trying to peer inside what they must have assumed to be filled with presents. Across the street he watched as a shopkeeper held the door open for a particularly chilly-looking old man, who made his way carefully up the icy steps. And there was his reflection, floating in the space between them, Max’s own face looking utterly pathetic and alone.

 

The page was still empty. So was he. His phone buzzed, excitedly proclaiming that a snowstorm was on its way, and reminding him yet again of just how close the holidays were getting. He thought of his mother, hanging strings of fairy lights from the ceilings and the tree that she and her boyfriend cut down themselves, the way they did every year. They would be playing happy music from the stereo in the TV room while the dog padded about their ankles. And he would be spending Christmas alone.

 

The thought of it crushed him, but there was no doubt in Max’s mind that it was true. He would be hunched over in front of his laptop, at the creaky old desk in his apartment, as bags formed under his eyes and he struggled to stay awake long enough to type the final sentences of a paper that would be worth mediocre marks at best. It wouldn’t feel like Christmas at all. He’d think about treating himself to some video games later in the day, and maybe he’d take a nap to try to reverse the effects of his own procrastination, but having other plans was definitely out of the question. He didn’t have many friends, but the few he did would be spending the day with their families, while Max himself couldn’t dream about being able to afford the trip home. Or the trip to Neil’s campus, for that matter. They talked about it a lot, but when it came down to it, Max never visited and Neil was always far too busy. It was a nice idea. But entirely impractical.

 

God, he was pathetic. His laptop was glaring at him accusingly.  _ You have work to do. You’re wasting time.  _ But Max’s eyes were starting to mist up and he couldn’t have concentrated on writing if he’d tried. He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

 

To: Neil

_ I miss you. _

  
  



	2. Someday

Max dropped another cereal box into his basket and wondered where the hell he’d gone wrong. 

 

Maybe it was school- he’d known he wasn’t ready to commit to a career path when he’d started out, but here he was now, drowning in coursework and more debt than he knew what to do with. Maybe it was the isolation. The lack of friends. The way he closed himself off from everybody and then had the gall to wonder why he felt so alone. And then again, maybe the problem was just him; A problem which unfortunately was incurable, and that would mean his only option at this point was to die and do everyone else in the world a favor.

 

But he shook the thought off of him.  _ Not here, _ he thought.  _ Not now. _ He was buying groceries for god’s sake. He scanned the shelves, ran his finger along the prices as he walked, but he wasn’t paying attention. Not really. He was still in his own head, and continued to be while finishing his rounds, traipsing to the self-checkout, and scanning each of his items as slowly as he could without looking like he was a hundred years old. He didn’t want to go home, didn’t want to face that empty apartment again, and he  _ really _ didn’t want to go to sleep in the bed that was too cold, too lonely, and covered head to toe in his dirty laundry. He dragged his feet on the way out, taking small detours and the occasional intentional wrong turn, but in the end it was the cold that forced him to pick up his pace and return to the blessedly regulated warmth of the apartment building.

 

_ Six o’clock exactly, _ he thought, turning the key in his front door. And there it was. He could hear, on the other side, the faint ringing that could only be one thing.

 

“Neil!” He whispered to himself, wasting no time in ripping off his jacket and his snow-covered shoes and tossing them to the side. When he finally picked up the call, the horrifically low-quality image of his boyfriend lit up the screen. And it was smiling.

 

“What took so long?” Neil asked.

 

“I was at the grocery store,” Max half-lied. “Did you get my text?”

 

Neil rummaged around in his pockets, pulled out his phone, and let out a chuckle. “You dork. I missed you too.”

 

“Good, because I honestly don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t.”   
  
“Probably find someone better and move on.”

 

Max’s brow furrowed. “Don’t say things like that.”

 

“Why not?” Neil was laying down now, his adorable face propped up in his hands, eyes boring into Max’s.

 

“Because it isn’t true, and besides, I don’t like seeing you sad.”

 

“Then why don’t you come up here and make me feel better?” Max’s heart skipped a beat. God, how he wished he could.

 

“Neil, you know that I would already be there with you if I could, but...”

 

Max could tell that Neil was picking up on all of the little things he was doing with his hands. Scratching his arms, cracking his knuckles over and over, running his fingers over everything he could touch. But he couldn’t stop- Max’s skin was crawling, and he felt like he needed to leave. Walk out of this door and never come back. Start over. But that was crazy.

 

“But what? You always promise you’re going to come  _ someday _ , but when is that? When is someday?”

 

Max lay on his back and stared at the ceiling, unable to look Neil in the eye. “Maybe it’s never. Maybe I’ll never be able to visit you.”

 

“You don’t mean that,” Neil said. But his voice was weaker than before. “What’s going on, Max?”

 

Images raced through Max’s head of all the glowing faces he’d seen today- in the coffeeshop, on the street, in department store windows. The couples holding each other close and taking in every detail of each other’s faces, hands grasped together, smiles splitting across their features, their laughter clear and sweet in the cold air. He looked at Neil’s blurry image and wondered how long it had been since they’d had that. It felt to him like sand slipping through his fingers and water spilling out of a glass and ice shattering all at once. 

 

“It’s nothing. Just… I can’t help feeling like this isn’t working out, you know?” 

 

Neil was silent, staring at his screen with scrunched-up eyes. Max continued, “We haven’t seen each other in person in months, maybe a year, and I can’t keep pretending like we’ll meet again later and nothing will have changed. We’ve missed out on so much, and the more our lives go on without each other the farther we’re going to drift. I don’t want to just fade away and become strangers again. Tell me you understand what I’m saying.”

 

“I..” Neil grasped for words. “What?”

 

“Don’t be stupid, Neil, you have to know this whole online thing never succeeds.” Max was growing angrier by the second, and he was afraid it was beginning to show in his body language and his speech. “We just don’t have a chance and we’re both hurting ourselves the longer we stay together.”

 

“You’re breaking up with me?”

 

Max nodded slowly, his voice caught in his throat. To his surprise, Neil responded by standing up and giving one last deadly glare to his laptop camera.

 

“You’re unbelievable. Whatever. Fuck you. Just check your mailbox when you get a chance.”

 

He slammed the lid of his computer shut, cutting off the call and leaving Max utterly lost, confusion now added to the swirling soup of emotions in his head. He didn’t know what to think, or feel, or do, and somehow the only thing he knew he didn’t want was to stay here in this empty apartment. He grabbed his keys from the counter by the door and just left. And all of the things he wished he’d said stayed in the room behind him as he went.


	3. The Boy With All the Answers

Everything was so loud, Max thought. Were his hands shaking? He knew this song. Or maybe he only knew the tune. Either way, he acted the part of a cool, nonchalant partygoer as well as anyone else, nodding along with the beat and intermittently sipping from the plastic cup in his hand. He didn’t even know what was in it. Or who invited him here. But then he saw the girl making her way toward him, and everything was quiet.

 

It was just him, beneath the multicolored lights, and the girl, carrying a drink in one hand and something small in the other, looking upwards at him through her long lashes as if this were the time or place to act shy.

 

“You left this at the bar,” she said, revealing Max’s cell phone and dangling it in front of him. He pocketed it, momentarily stunned by how long and soft her hair looked, especially in this light. And damn if that dark lipstick didn’t compliment it perfectly. She was all shadows and mystery, which at the moment was sounding a lot like a case Max would love to get to the bottom of. But there was something else, too.

 

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

 

“Maybe.” She might have been blushing, but it was hard to tell. And that was when it hit him.

 

“You’re the girl from the coffee shop! The one who always gets all flustered when I order from her.” Max grinned, her face suddenly familiar, the distance between them shrinking with every word. If she was embarrassed about being recognized in such a way she hid it well.

 

“Can I really help it if you’re just so gorgeous?” She leaned in, her voice low, and Max reciprocated. They were holding each other now, faces mere inches away.

 

“Don’t worry,” Max breathed, “I think it’s cute.” 

 

She joined their lips as he wound his hands up her arms, her skin so warm under his fingers, her breath on his cheeks. It was so real, in a way he was completely unused to. He’d been sleeping with his limbs tangled around pillows for so long that he’d forgotten what it felt like to embrace something living. And now here he was, head like a cloud, losing track of time, and the next thing he knew he had the girl pinned against a darkened wall in an abandoned hallway, kissing every inch of her neck that he could reach, while her breathing grew heavier and her touch became more desperate.

 

She was pressed against him, her tongue exploring every inch of his mouth, while he ran his hands up and down her arms, humming against her, his voice low. And then suddenly she wasn’t.

 

Max barely registered her hands pushing back against his chest, his arms falling limply to his sides, her absence feeling like a blanket that had been torn off of him before he was ready. He decided that he didn’t like it one bit.

 

“What's wrong?”

 

The girl was quiet for a moment, aside from the sound of her regaining breath, before she replied in utter disbelief. 

 

“Did you just call me...Neil?”

 

Oh  _ shit. _

 

“Who the hell is that?” She stood staring at Max just long enough to realize he wasn’t going to answer, then, fuming, turned on her heel and walked away without another word, though he could see that tears were forming in her eyes. He had well and truly fucked things up this time.

 

The cab ride home felt like a wholly different planet, not like the one full of blinding lights and sweaty people that he’d just stepped out of. Things were calmer on this planet, and significantly fewer social interactions were involved, which was always good. But it was also more than possible that Max wasn’t fully prepared to face the silent darkness just yet, because upon seeing the number of texts and voicemails he’d missed from Neil, he did something he never did. Max burst into tears.

 

Voicemail number one was little more than a casual apology, Neil saying he wished they could just start over, then seemingly giving up on that line of approach after the second or third try. Voicemails four, five, and six had the distinct sound of glass and liquid in the background- Neil was drinking. Probably alone, in his dorm room. By number nine, Max was positive that was exactly what was happening. Neil’s messages lost their soft edges and became much more bitter, going over all of the things Max could have done to save their relationship. He was always late replying to texts and calls, sometimes disappeared completely for days on end, and the like.  _ He’s right _ , Max reminded himself, but regardless he found himself deleting the last few without even listening to them. He told himself it was probably better that he didn’t- there was nothing Neil could have said that Max hadn’t already told himself- and besides, they were pulling up to his block. 

 

He thanked the driver as he stepped out, and felt the cold night air bite his skin. He hadn’t worn a jacket, but he was in no state of mind to care. He also realized with a pang that his stomach hurt like hell; because  _ fuck, I should’ve eaten something today.  _

 

And thus began the longest week of Max’s life.

 

He’d once upon a time been the kind of boy who always had an answer- there was no situation so sticky he couldn’t smooth-talk his way out of it, and most people would do absolutely anything for him if he asked it the right way. He’d been the king of manipulation and getting what he wanted. But he’d also been an idiot. Neil had showed him that, had changed his entire outlook on life, and he’d managed to do it so subtly that Max didn’t even notice until it was too late. Neil had made him a better person. There was no getting around it. And for some reason it took Max until he was hung over and laying on the roof of his apartment building to realize. It took until he had already told Neil they could never be happy, which he didn’t even believe himself, and until he’d already lost the only person in the universe who could possibly love him. He stared up at the stars, thousands of brilliant little lights in a vast, empty black sky. And he wondered if there was anyone else out there who was like him. And then he dropped his phone off of the building, rolled onto his stomach, and decided that if there was, he never wanted to meet them.

  
  


~~

 

Max didn’t make a habit of checking his mailbox, as a general rule, as there was almost never anything inside that was worth having. Advertisements, maybe, and a few coupons for products he would never buy, from stores he’d never visited, but nothing else. Anyone who really cared to tell him something would usually send him a text. There was only one day when he would voluntarily haul himself down to the mail room, and that was bill day. Which just so happened to be today. The same day one of his neighbors had come by to drop off his shattered (but still functioning) cell phone, having found it on the concrete below where he’d been lying the night before. He’d figured that would happen. He’d also been prepared for the maelstrom of messages and missed calls from barista girl. He didn’t open a single one.

 

What he didn’t expect, however, was the light blue envelope tucked neatly in between all of the junk that he very nearly threw in the trash without a second glance. And even more than that he was not prepared for the neat handwriting decorating the front of the thing. He didn’t even need to glance at the return address- he knew who this was from. The question was  _ why. _

 

Within seconds, he held in his hands a train ticket, a letter, and a green-and-yellow lanyard. The kind they’d made as kids, all those years ago at Camp Campbell. The kind they’d hated so much in the moment, but that somehow, looking at it now, made Max break out in a grin. Was this real?

 

_ Neil, you bastard. _

 

He’d really done it. He’d really bought Max a train ticket to his city, and he’d really planned an entire day’s worth of activities for them to do while he was there, from what Max read of the letter. Of course, that had all been before Max had turned twenty one. Before he’d broken up with Neil and let everything slip completely out of his control. It’d been seven days since they’d talked at all, but Max knew it was time he put things right.

 

In his room, Max paced back and forth, the letter, the lanyard, and the ticket sitting open on his bed, staring at him as he walked. His laptop was open to the front page of FaceTime, but he hadn’t clicked Neil’s name yet. He was working up to it. It was several minutes before he mustered up the courage to do it, and to make matters worse, several more passed before Neil picked up. And when he did, it was to find Max still pacing across the floor.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Neil! You picked up.” Max stopped in place, unsure of what to do next. It felt wrong to keep standing like he was, but he couldn’t possibly sit, and so he settled for nervously wiping his hands on his jeans and walking back and forth a little more while he talked. Neil, on the other hand, looked slightly more comfortable, propped up against the pillows on his bed.

 

“Yeah. Listen, if this is about all those phone calls, I was drunk and I-”

 

“It’s not about the phone calls. Listen. I need to apologize for what I did and what I said, because you didn’t deserve that, okay?” Neil nodded, but didn’t respond. “I’m sorry, Neil, I really am.” Max begged his voice not to break. But just as he was preparing to launch himself into some sort of long-winded apology that he definitely should have practiced beforehand, Neil held up a hand to stop him.

 

“Don’t,” he said. “You didn’t mean it. You’re infinitely sorry for breaking my heart into a million pieces. You’re a massive dick and the dumbest bitch on the face of the planet. I know.”

 

They both laughed. Max felt his tension ease, the kick drum beating in his chest quiet just a little.

 

“Would it be cheesy if I asked if we could start over?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

“In that case..” Max walked through his bedroom door, closed it, and came back through. He could see his smiling boyfriend waiting for him when he did, and suddenly he realized just how lucky he was. He extended a pretend handshake, which Neil reciprocated. “Hi. I’m Max," he said. "Nice to meet you.”


End file.
